


The Serpent

by YuMe89



Series: Choices We Make [4]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Other, this is not so sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-13
Updated: 2019-07-13
Packaged: 2020-06-27 17:34:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19795687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YuMe89/pseuds/YuMe89





	The Serpent

Standing at a beach under the starlit sky, Aziraphale spread his wings, allowing them to just be. He felt the mild breeze caressing them. Alone and not a single Human in sight, he stared out at the sea reflecting every star and the moon, like a dark glittering silksheet. 

It was beautiful. Taking advantage of the night, he flew to his next destination. He had promised Poyel to send him postcards of all the places he explored. So the next day, he would do just that.

Aziraphale knew it was a bit daring to fly around like this, but he didn't want to use a plane when he was perfectly capable to fly himself. It had been a three months of travelling already and he did feel a lot better than before. He was a bit more himself, enjoying food and he was much friendlier already. Although, his hair was a mess, too long and curling in weird places. It hadn't felt right to go to another barber. Getting out of Soho was exactly what he had needed, even though he missed it a lot.

His last stop would be Iceland. 

All around the world, Aziraphale had tried different ways to feel at ease. Meditating with Buddists in Tibet, strolling through a beautiful flower garden in Vienna and even riding an elephant in India. 

He had met weird, but lovely people in Japan and one Hollywood star in Los Angeles. Even though he wasn't sure if he had been one for real. Watching movies had always been more Crowleys thing. Ignoring the slight stab of pain in his chest, he thought about happier things. His time in Thailand, was fun. Their breathtaking beaches and friendly faces, even though they did call him 'Big gay man' in thai, thinking he didn't understand them. He wasn't gay, but didn't feel the need to correct them. He could understand, why they would come to such a conclusion. 

Back home in Soho, Poyel sorted a book shipment he bought as distraction and to be actually sold. The door was firmly locked, he made sure of it everytime he was about to leave or went upstairs. 

So it was a surprise, when he heard the bell ring, warning him of a customer. "I'm really sorry, but we're closed.", he said in a kind tone, as he went out of the backroom and into the front.

He didn't look like a customer. Long auburn hair tied in a man-bun, clad in all black and sunglasses, at night. "Can I help you?", he asked with a smile. The other man raised a single eyebrow.

"You're not Aziraphale.", he stated, looking around, as if to make sure he was in the right place.

"Uhm, no. My names Poyel and I took over for him, uhm, Matt Poyel.", he said, trying to figure out, how this man was related to Aziraphale. 

For a friction of time, he looked devastated. "So he's gone?", quickly gaining his control over his face back, he walked around a bit. "Figured they would get him...", the man mused, more to himself than to Poyel.

"Oh, no, he will come back. He's on vacation.", he said, glad to correct this man, who seemed to be so sad about Aziraphale being gone.

"You're an Angel, right? Do you know where he is?", the mysterious men asked, flooring Poyel with his first question. "How did you..?", he said, baffled. He gained his wits and shook his head.

"I-I get postcards, before he leaves the places he went to, so I don't know where he will be next.", the young Angel said, stuttering. 

The other man inclined his head to the side and looked him up and down. "Postcards?"

"Y-Yes, uhm. May I ask how you knew...uhm...", Poyel stumbled over every word. Was this man possibly dangerous and he shouldn't tell him Aziraphales whereabouts?

"Ah, sorry.", he said, sounding not in the slightest sorry. He took his glasses of. "I'm Anthony J. Crowley.", a smirk on his lips. 

If Poyel had anything in his hand, he sure would have let it fall down in that moment. Eyes wide, he stared at Crowley. "Oh dear..."

"I guess Aziraphale has told you about me.", he stated, approaching the young Angel slowley, who took a few steps back.

"Uh...yes...uhm, you're a Demon!", he exclaimed, staring into Crowleys snake eyes, as if he was hypnotized by them. "I-I've never encountered one."

"Can I see those postcards you mentioned?", the serpent asked, voice deep and sinuous.

Poyel stumbled back against a shelf. It slowley damned him, why Aziraphale had fallen for this Demon. Temptation come to life. Wasn't that Heaven had warned him about? The older Angel had sounded much happier in the little texts he wrote Poyel, he wasn't sure if it was such a good idea to confront him with the Love of his Life, that he can't even have.

He blinked a few times. "I-I'm afraid no.", he said trying to sound firm, but it was not more than a whimper. Great.

Crowley took a few steps back and headed for the backroom. "No, you can't go there!", Poyel said and started to follow the demon. He didn't expect him to turn around so quickly and all but ran into him. Which earned him a raised eyebrow.

"Boy, don't tell me what to do. I've been here longer than you ever will.", it sounded just slightly like a threat.

Getting a good distance between them both, Poyel put a petulant face on. "I don't think Aziraphale would want you in there.", he said, earning a laugh. 

"Yeah, keep telling yourself that. But don't try to stop me, I might be tempted to change myself in a huge black snake and eat you whole. You want that?", that was definitely a threat. 

The Angel was rooted to the spot. "I'm not telling you where he is, even if I knew."

"Oh, it's okay.", Crowley said, after his short time in the backroom of the bookshop, having found the postcards. "I just need to know, where he's not.", looking at the pictures and turning them around to read Aziraphales flourish handwriting. It made him ache for his Angel. 

"Do you even love him?", Poyel asked, his brows furrowed, slightly angry. 

Crowley hesitated, nearly dropping the cards. "What was that?", he asked, looking up. 

Raising his chin in defience, Poyel said:"You heard me."

"Did he tell you that?", the Demon asked, putting the postcards in his jacket and sauntering towards Poyel, who nodded, once again nervous. 

"A-and I think you shouldn't bother him anymore. He was a-a wreck. The human term would be depressed.", he dared to say, hoping it wasn't too much. 

"Why would he be depressed? I am nothing more than a friend to him.", the demon said, puzzled. To Poyel, his statement was just pure sadness, no matter how much the other tried to let his voice sound even und unfazed.

"But you are...more to him. I shouldn't be telling you this.", he backtracked, about to round Crowley, to flee into the backroom, but was halted by a firm grip on his button down. 

"Tell me everything."


End file.
